Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God

But Mary kept all these words, pondering them in her heart.  --Luke 2:19

One thing I love about the Catholic Church is the making sacred of even secular holidays. New Year's Day is also the Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God. New Year's Eve, for me, has come to be not about going to a great party, but about going to church. At the Vigil Mass last evening, I had the special surprise of hearing that it was being said for my Great Aunt Rosie, who died in November. For some reason, there was no one to do the music for the Mass, so Father J. had us sing a verse of "Immaculate Mary" at the beginning and another at the end. The quiet that settled in the moments usually filled with instruments and song seemed appropriate. What filled the silence was joy.

It's still the Christmas season in the Catholic Church, and we heard for this Feast Day the story of the shepherds coming to witness the birth of the Messiah and how Mary was silent in awe and wonder, how she cherished the words said about her Holy Son, tucking them into the deepest recesses of her heart.

Catholics celebrate Jesus' birth and sacrifice on the cross at every Mass. The Mass makes present the events of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection in a unique way. Christmas, in fact, comes from Christ-Mass. Christmas is a Holy Day inaugurated by the Catholic Church, a fact that many Protestants don't realize. When I was a Protestant, I didn't either. The Mass truly is the place to experience such holy mysteries together.

I wondered last evening at the brevity of our priest's homily, which was short even for him. But then I consider that there aren't many words beyond the Gospel that are needed. Mary herself simply contemplated all that had transpired. Her focus was on the meaning of the birth of her son and the great work of God. Being the Virgin Mother of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is God incarnate, must have given her endless food for meditation. All Christians are called to birth him in our hearts and take him out into the world. Mary is our exemplar of discipleship. It's interesting to note that in the days of the Protestant Reformation, Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli all acknowledged and honored Mary as the Holy Mother of God.

I think Father J.'s short homily reflected his humility, in imitation of Mary's. Homilies and sermons are certainly an important part of the Mass, but the point is not to wow us all with brilliant words, though sometimes he does. In a similar way, the Mass does not exist to entertain us, musically or otherwise. Going to church isn't about one's spiritual "experience". It isn't about giving one a rush of ecstatic feeling or a profound revelation, although that can and does at times happen. Father J. let it be all about Jesus, just like Mary did.

Here is my reason for writing this today; this is my plea: Catholics, come home. Whatever the reason you left, grace awaits you. If you are not a Christian, I invite you. And if you are a non-Catholic Christian, I invite you too and challenge you to do some homework. Research the origins of the Church. Learn about the sacraments, all 7 of them, not just the 2 that Martin Luther left intact. Seek the historical evidence regarding what Christian worship really looked like in the early centuries of the Church, and what the members of the early Church actually believed. Because I can tell you, worship looked like the Catholic Mass, and the followers of Christ believed in his Real Presence, in the transubstantiation of the consecrated bread and wine of Holy Communion into the body and blood of Jesus.

We are all--Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant alike--Christian brothers and sisters. But we shouldn't be separated. Catholic literally means universal. One Church for all people. That's why Jesus came, and that's why he gave us Mary, his very own mother, as Mother of the Church.

Lullaby (a poem)

The sky falls
   on everyone eventually.
Bird lands between cat's teeth,
   and there is nothing for it.
Wings lacking tenacity
   and life flight urgency.

But what is our excuse?
We who war over the nature
of right thinking and sanity,
or insanity, and how it moves
through shadows and sticks like a web...

Sleep--the elusive mistress we crave
over all percussive instruments.

Eventually this mortal coil must shift to pause--
Its tune-ups are more persistent,
prevalent as daily mail.

Send me a better letter.
Return this pale elemental
envelope filled with unrechargable
batteries and miscellaneous bric-a-brac.

Ship me a Ginsu to cut
through an old macabre melody
stuck in a worn vinyl groove.

And don't forget the warranty,
   the extension, the last chance
donation to a First World disaster,
   First Class.

Birthday Reboot

I have decided, today on my birthday, to begin writing here again on a regular basis, under the patronage of Catholic writer and mystic, Julian of Norwich. Every month Organic Mothering is visited a few hundred times, which is a modest number but still significant, especially since I haven't written anything new in several months. I started another blog, and it has been well received, but it isn't the same. Something resonates with people in this blog. Maybe it's the title, or the popularity of certain subjects, or there is a mysterious inspiration at work.

I read over my old posts sometimes, and I am reminded of wisdom I have gathered that I sometimes forget. This helps me to "pull focus" and get back on track if I have been distracted by fear, doubt, worry, or any number of things that compete for my attention. I center once more on what is important. So this is my gift to myself today, to breathe out my life onto these electronic pages.

The sun is shining, for which I am so grateful! It is these little things that we must rely upon to bring us joy as the temperatures drop. It has been a mild winter so far, the grace of a reprieve, I suspect, before we get hit hard. Or maybe not. Either way, I'm not going to cringe from what comes, because what is to come will come, and stiff shoulders won't make any difference at all.

I'm going to see a movie with my family this afternoon and eat leftovers from the birthday brunch I shared yesterday with my parents, grandparents, sister, husband, daughter, and her friend. I already had cherry pie for breakfast! I am blessed with so much love. None of us knows how long we will have any of the important people in our lives, so I remind myself frequently to cherish each moment. A Madonna CD playing, a young girl dancing in the middle of the living room--what more entertainment can a person really need?

I am excited to meet with you here again, dear readers, perhaps for a cup of tea, or to shed a few tears, to smile conspiratorially, and to hear the silent music of the soul. 

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.
-- St. Julian of Norwich

Carrying the Cross

After I received Communion at Mass today, I looked up at Jesus on the cross, as I usually do, and made the sign of the cross. But today, I really noticed Jesus on the cross in a new way. I am currently experiencing the heaviest cross I have ever been given to bear in my life. When I looked up at Jesus, it was as if he saw me. And I have no doubt that he did. He showed me that in his pain and agony, there was great strength. Power. All the power in heaven and on earth. I felt him saying, See me up here, on this cross, and know that I am in you. Know that there is nothing that I will give you to bear that I will not also give you the strength to withstand. 

I had been thinking during this current crisis that God must believe I am very strong to have given me such a great trial and responsibility. He must have much confidence in me. But maybe the more accurate reality is that he is strong, and that it is his strength that he is giving me. When I looked up at Jesus on the cross, I had just received him in the Eucharist, his Real Presence--body, blood, soul and divinity. The Gospel reading was from John 6, which makes so clear that Jesus commands us to eat of his body and drink of his blood, literally. I heard these verses again on the way home in the car on the radio, said by a priest with a lovely accent during a Latin Mass. I am supposed to pay attention to these verses, to hold them close to my heart, to understand that it is here, in the Blessed Sacrament, in the consecrated bread and wine, that I will receive my strength and be nourished in every way.

Today also happened to be the Feast of Corpus Christi, the Body of Christ. We had a guest priest who taught us the origin of this feast. The story was about a priest who once doubted the Real Presence in the Eucharist. While he was saying Mass, blood dropped from the host onto a cloth on the altar. This relic is paraded through the streets of Italy on this feast day. After the homily, the guest priest shared a really long mission speech asking for donations. I was anxious to just have Communion and get home to make sure everything was okay, and I couldn't believe how long the man talked!

But now it occurs to me. I have learned in Catholicism that there is a purpose to my suffering. I can offer it up to bless those in greater need. The children in poverty in third world countries that I heard about today have a greater need than mine. For food, shelter, education, and the basic necessities of life. To keep the boys out of a life of terrorism and the girls from a life of forced prostitution. I gave a donation in the envelope and wrote my prayer request. I can offer up my suffering for these children, and it will bless them, and what I am going through will mean something good and real. It will help someone else. And the person who opens the envelope will make my intentions known and make sure that my family is prayed for. Knowing these things, perhaps I will avoid despair.

The gift of the Catholic Church is endless. It is eternal, this one, true, holy, universal and apostalic Church. This is the Church Jesus built on the Rock named Peter, the apostle who denied him three times. This flawed, fearful, unfaithful man was the first Pope. The one given the keys to the kingdom by our Lord. Jesus is now trusting me, just as I am, with a great task. That's the other thing he seemed to be saying from the cross, that I can do this difficult thing just as I am. He is with me and in me. I don't have to be perfect, because he is perfecting me in his way, in his time. He has guided and will continue to guide me in my decisions, even if others don't understand them or think I am making the wrong choices.

In hindsight, we might see what we could have done differently, and we can learn from our mistakes and grow to be the persons God has created us to be. When we find ourselves in a crisis or difficult situation, we can pray and then do the best with what we have, with what we know, with what our instincts and the Holy Spirit lead us to do. Decisions are not made with 20/20 hindsight, but rather in the present moment. I made a phone call today that resulted in someone else being upset, yet the person who responded to the call delivered, in perfect kindness and compassion, a much needed message and important information. I believe, therefore, that it was a good decision, and that the message given was of divine intervention. We often have to feel our way as things unfold, to navigate a new challenge in very stormy seas, but we don't have to do it alone.

We are, each and every one of us, specially designed by our Father with a unique personality, with particular strengths and talents. Everyone has his or her own genius and purpose in life. I am not supposed to be different from who I am, from the person I was created to be, and neither are you. We also all have human weaknesses, which are not necessarily defects of personality or character, but rather raw material that God uses, along with our stronger qualities, to draw us closer to him. Every imperfection has its brilliance on the other side of the coin. For example, patience is the virtuous side of stubbornness. Both reflect a strong will and the ability to wait. We are all sinners, and every single sinner is called to become a saint.

There is an old hymn that has the lyrics, Just As I Am. As the 12 Step adage goes, what other people think of me is none of my business. We can only be forgiven in the exact measure that we forgive others. Living with endless remorse, regret, guilt, shame, blame, resentment, fear, doubt, and worry can only keep us from the mission given us by Christ. The Sacrament of Confession gives us the opportunity to bring our sins to Jesus and know that we are absolved of them. I am reminding myself right now, and you, to go to Confession often! We then do our penance, make the amends to others that we can, and move on. We must learn to see Christ in ourselves and all others, and accept ourselves and one another just as we are.

And here's a neat thing I have experienced my whole life. People have often remarked on the qualities of patience, compassion, empathy, and understanding that they saw and admired in me. What if the good things people say about us really are true? What if we believed our advocates, even a little, and allowed the condemning voices to pass through, and let them go? We might be able to move mountains.

A retired priest that I am very fond of who still occasionally says the Mass loves to recite the poetry of Mary Oliver.  I will leave you with my personal favorite, "Wild Geese":


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
In the family of things.

A Visit from Me!

Hello, lovely readers. Over the months since I stopped writing here, I have occasionally checked in and discovered that this blog is still being read daily, even without any new posts. I do miss it here. Perhaps the reasons that I felt I had to abandon this beloved project have been sufficiently resolved. Maybe I can rediscover organic mothering and continue to share what inspires me. Most likely I will not be able to re-open the comments function, but there it is. As much as I would like to converse with you all, for personal reasons I still do not feel safe in opening that line of communication.

I continue to be a homeschooling mother. My only girl will be 10 on Sunday--double digits! We are officially finished with this school year, but of course learning never ends, and we have all sorts of plans for summer. Our beloved dog Daisy passed away last month as a result of congenital heart failure. She survived for almost two years on medications after being diagnosed, and she died in her sleep, still a happy dog. For those things we are grateful. We have adopted a new dog, a one-year-old beagle named Milo, from the Humane Society. He is a rascal! Beezy will begin dog training at a local facility with him soon.

Today we're going out to see Farmer Jo Ann for some container flowers to plant, and hanging baskets. It's an annual tradition we enjoy. Beezy especially loves meeting the new kittens that always arrive in spring. Spring. It has come slowly but surely this year, following a long, hard, cold Ohio winter. I am only beginning to unwind and release...

So we'll see how it goes. I'll reach out my branches here and sing to the sun, the moon, and the stars. St. Francis and St. Clare, pray for us, for our beautiful Earth and all of God's creatures living in it. Help us to live and grow in peace and harmony. Teach us to live fully and with awe and wonder. Show us how to be.

A Fond Farewell

Organic Mothering has meant so much to me these past few years. Now the time has come to focus my energy on some exciting, new creative projects. A heartfelt thank you to all of those who have read this blog and followed me on my journey. I may occasionally return with updates and new information on what I am up to, but for the time being, I wish you all Godspeed.

With much love and gratitude,
dancingmommio

Good Intentions

Good Intentions

Let your intentions in the fulfillment of your duties be so pure that you reject from your actions every other object but the glory of God and the salvation of souls. -St. Angela Merici

— from Sisterhood of Saints

I just had to share this quote from Minute Meditations! This is going to be my guiding mantra from now on. Let us commit these words to our minds and embed them in our hearts. Our journey is to be happy on earth so we can be happy in heaven. Our joy is in the Lord. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light (Matt. 11:30). Nothing else matters. No doubt, criticism, unkindness, or ill treatment from others can get in the way of fulfilling our parental vocation. Here is the impenetrable armor. Here is your sword. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will. This is our all.

 St. Anne with Mary

As St. Anne taught our Blessed Mother, so I teach my daughter...

DAILY PRAYER TO SAINT ANNE

O glorious St. Anne, you are filled with compassion for those who invoke you and with love for those who suffer! Heavily burdened with the weight of my troubles, I cast myself at your feet and humbly beg of you to take the present intention which I recommend to you in your special care.

Please recommend it to your daughter, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and place it before the throne of Jesus, so that He may bring it to a happy issue. Continue to intercede for me until my request is granted. But, above all, obtain for me the grace one day to see my God face to face, and with you and Mary and all the saints to praise and bless Him for all eternity. Amen.

Our Father, . . . Hail Mary . . .

O Jesus, Holy Mary, St. Ann, help me now and at the hour of my death.

Good St. Ann, intercede for me.